Razor's Edge
by Cuddledumb
Summary: Ariana DeStefano has had enough when it comes to life. She wants it to end. Hell- she tries to end it. That's how she ended up in this mess! If only that damned red-haired Faery with those amazing green eyes hadn't saved her... (rated T for language. Rating may change depending on if you like the story enough for me to go farther into it.)
1. Prologue

**Please don't pelt me with sharp objects. Yeah, yeah, I know. "ERMERGERD, FELIX, WORK ON **_**BETRAYED**_**, DAMN IT!" Well, I'm having a bit of trouble with the story. Boo-hoo for you.**

**Ha-ha, sorry. I'm just not feeling the story, though I do wish to update it. I have chapter four ready to go, but I plan on putting up chapter five with it as a little reward for the patience you guys have with me that I do not deserve.**

**On a completely unrelated note, have you guys **_**seen **_**the voice actor for Finn from **_**Adventure Time**_**? He is cordially invited to fu-**

***Hears my mom calling for me.***

**I, uh, have to go... Enjoy this chapter! *Runs off while laughing nervously.***

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**PROLOGUE**

It all began when Ariana entered the eighth grade.

She'd always been different. She never liked to hang out with friends- hell, she didn't _have _but one friend. She wasn't emaciated and stick-thin like most of the other girls in her grade. She, instead, had the wide curves of her (absent) mother.

She didn't listen to Lady Gaga or Nicki Minaj. She liked Linkin Park. My Chemical Romance. They were the type of band that held true emotion in their music (at least, she thought so).

And, all because she wasn't afraid to express her own opinion, she became the ultimate target of Rosewood Middle School's bitch squad.

Every morning she woke up, dreading the day. Every time she stepped through those school doors she felt sick to her stomach, but she couldn't show it or else she'd be thought lesser of as a person than she was then. Every afternoon she went home to the verbal, and sometimes physical, abuse of her father and she would shut herself away in her room, the only place she felt that she could breathe. It represented her, in a way- dark, basically empty and void of anything.

She'd slip into her walk-in closet, grab the hand-carved wooden box that she wished she'd never kept, and she'd open it up. Inside was a smaller, black box and a bloody towel. Inside that black box was the only thing that made her feel like she was still part of this earth: a razor.

She never cut too deep, just enough that she could feel the sting. She'd give herself a few more scars (she was already broken, why not damage herself some more?) and hold the towel to the wounds until they stopped bleeding. Then away the box would go, and she'd put it back on the shelf and drag herself to bed. Then the vicious cycle would start all over.

There would come a day, though, one single day, where the few cuts wouldn't help. That day, though, was what changed everything.

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**"THIS CHAPTER IS TOO SHORT, MOTHERFUCKER!" Yes, well, it is the prologue. This is going up with the first chapter, so just sit back and calm yourself.**

**Does it sound interesting, huh? D'you like it? WELL, DO YOU?**

**This kind of came to me as a dream and I wanted to write about it. So I wrote about it, obviously. I sincerely hope you like it. Maybe you could review and give me tips to make it better? Yeah, that'd be appreciative.**

**- Felix**


	2. The Breaking Point

**As promised, Chapter 1 was posted right after the prologue. Like I mentioned **_**in **_**the prologue, reviews honestly do help and I'd love if you were to critique my writing (NOTE that I said CRITIQUE, not BITCH about it).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the **_**Iron Fey**_** series, although I wish that I did. That'd be really cool. I do own Ariana and anything that you do NOT recognize from the **_**Iron Fey**_** series.**

**Also, in case you guys are wondering about the self-harm thing: this is kind of big for the plot. It's not meant to offend anyone, nor do I think it **_**will **_**offend anyone. If it does, (which I still don't think it will), let me know. Also, I've done QUITE a bit of research on it. Don't sit here and tell me I've got everything wrong. **_**This **_**is exactly how **_**I've **_**felt.**

**Here's Chapter 1. Enjoy it, guys.**

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**The Breaking Point**

"Are you still in bed? Get up! I don't have the time to waste on waiting for you to get out of the house!"

Ariana groaned and woke up as her father slammed the door shut with a loud bang. She dragged herself out of bed, went to the bathroom, and began her morning routine. Wash her face, brush her hair, brush her teeth. Get dressed. Wear anything that covered up the scars. Yeah, that was her morning routine.

Though knowing that it was going to make her feel sicker than she already was, she didn't grab anything to eat and left the house, slamming the front door on the abusive screams of her father. She'd learned to ignore them. It's not like they could make her feel any worse.

_Keep Your Head Down. Don't Look at Anyone. Ignore All of Them. _That was what she repeated every day as she walked through the doors of Rosewood High.

"Emo wannabe!" someone shouted. Other people jeered and began throwing insults at her left and right. Someone shoved her as she walked past, though she managed to keep her balance.

She was shoved again. Harder. This time she felt to the ground, letting out a silent whimper as her knees hit stone-cold tile floor. Her books fell. She went to grab one when someone grabbed one from the ground.

Looking up and expecting to see Amber, the Barbie doll of the school, or, even worse, Jess, your typical, cliche head cheerleader, she saw the friendly-looking (and, admittedly, attractive) face of a red-haired boy with green eyes. He was new. She'd never seen him before.

"I have reason to believe that this is yours," he said formally, though you could tell he wasn't serious. He held out his other hand to Ariana and helped her up, then bent down to grab the rest of her books. He handed them to her. All she did was nod in thanks and begin walking to her classroom once again.

"You're the silent type, aren't ya?" a voice came from beside her. She looked to see the boy still following her.

"What do you want? Don't you see how everyone else hates me and treats me like total shit? Do you want to end up on my end of things?" Ari didn't know if she was saying this to honestly protect the dumbass or to get him away from her. Probably the latter.

"It wouldn't bother me. They'll forget about me, anyways." The boy grinned to himself, as though he knew something she didn't.

Ari was getting a bit annoyed now. She wanted this (pretty attractive) guy to hurry up and leave her alone. Luckily, and also unluckily, she reached her first period class, which he didn't seem to have with her: Biology.

Six periods later, school happily ended, though Ari knew it didn't mean everything was safe.

Especially this day. She hadn't seen Jess at all today, which was completely unusual, because usually she was in every class with perfect attendance to seem like the perfect student. How movie-cliche, right? But this day, she wasn't in. Not until the very end of the day.

"Hey, Freak." Jess smirked as she suddenly appeared in front of Ari, phone out. Ari was suspicious. Not a little suspicious. Completely suspicious. The feeling of dread settled in her stomach like an anchor and hooked on. Then, when Jess pressed the button and every phone rang or buzzed, including her own, the anchor began to sink and she felt nauseous.

_It's going to be some completely cliche picture, like in that one book- _The Iron King, _was it? There's going to be a picture; I'm going to be embarrassed. _Ari pulled out the phone she didn't use at all except for internet away from home or to sometimes call her father to say she'd be late to avoid more verbal abuse, and, checking her messages (how did Jess get her number?) the anchor tore through her stomach and the dread flooded her entire body and mind.

_Oh no this has gone too far why would she do this where did she get the picture nononononononono. _That went through her head as she stared at a very-obviously photoshopped, naked woman's body covered in bleeding scars with her face plastered on. There was a caption that read, "Emo cutterslut!" She began to drown in the jeering and whistles of her peers as she tore from the school- this was going way too far. Way. Too. Far.

She flung her backpack into the woods somewhere by her house and raced in. Her father wasn't home right now, which would have flooded her with relief if it wasn't this day.

Into her room. Into the closet. Everything was a blur; she felt as if she was just in a lucid dream. She pulled down the wooden box. Her hand hesitated over the razor and towel. She threw the box and raced into the kitchen to grab a knife. Out the front door again. Into a quiet, empty clearing.

It was peaceful and secluded. She wouldn't be found for a while. She pressed the knife deep into her wrist and sliced. Pressed again, a bit farther up her arm. Slice. She continued with this until there was no more room and she was bleeding profusely. She did it with a shaky, now very pale hand to the other arm, mutilating it the same way. Then her legs. She was becoming light-headed. Her vision was growing blurry- she didn't know if it was her tears or the fact that she was losing an insane amount of blood. Probably both.

She couldn't feel anything as she lay in the grass a long while later, or at least, that's what it felt like. In reality, it had only been a few minutes. She was barely breathing and only half-concious. Wicked-looking scabs had formed for some of her cuts; some of her cuts were still bleeding. She felt free; she felt wild. She knew this was how she should have gone about the entire problem in the first place, just to show everyone what would happen.

_No- that's not right. Why am I thinking those things- I don't want to die! I don't want to die anymore! I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't-_

Suddenly, through blurry vision, a strange yet familiar face peered down at her in shock and concern. Green eyes full of worry and messy red hair decorated her vision. The last thing she remembered before going unconcious- maybe forever- was being picked up by strong arms.

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**Yeah, a bit extreme, but it has happened and will happen. Not that crazy when you think about how it must feel to be basically tortured for not being a snobby bitch that wears skirts as short as Robert Downey, Jr. Review and tell me what you think?**


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